


Fire Burning

by WindwiseWords



Series: Xenogen City [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Amalgam of Transformers Universes, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Transformers AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 11:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8283703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindwiseWords/pseuds/WindwiseWords
Summary: Red Alert goes through a typical day. Only life is never typical in the new city of Xenogen.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo more of my AU. I'm on a ROLL today! Also lazy with tags.

            “Just don’t scratch at it.” Red Alert called after Sunstreaker, whose brother had him by the shoulders.

            “I got it, I got it. Primus, Red.” Sideswipe called back, making sure to steer his brother out of the room and keep him from picking at a second stage rust infection on his upper left torso.

            Red Alert could hear the agitation in the other bots’ grumbles as they left the Medical Sector and moved on. Paranoia crept up his spinal strut and told him they were talking about him. For once it was probably correct.

            With a heavy sigh he went back to clean up the medical berth he borrowed from First Aid’s ward, his own still under construction in the new city. Everything really half built, except the solid wall that only a macrobot’s cannon could blast through, and only at the right angle.

            Paranoia still hung heavily over his head, and he froze, leaning heavily on the edge of a counter as he loaded the tools into an autoclave for cleaning. A flashback, not unlike PTSD that a few Decepticons suffered, ripped through his mind. The wall failed, letting in a swarm of still undetected, unallied Decepticons. A hurricane tore over the city and threw the Seekers off into the water, smashing them against the edges of the semi-floating city until they broke apart. His processor reminded him that hurricanes were considered the deadliest natural weather phenomenon on this world.

            “Red Alert?” A voice called him back to present, gruff and grumpy but careful. Ratchet.

            “Sir.” He instantly saluted, forgetting the scalpel in his hand and scraping his paint as he did so. It stung slightly and a soft hiss of annoyance left his lip plates.

            Ratchet grunted and came to take the scalpel along with the other tools, threw them into the machine, and closed it. “You don’t have to be so dainty with ‘em. Won’t get any more clean lay out all nice and fancy.” Ratchet grabbed his wrist and swung him onto the medical berth, pulling his shoulders back and starting on treating the cut.

            “Sir, I can treat that myself.” Red Alert stated after the shock wore off. “I do not want to take up your time.”

            “My time is precious, but my coworkers are more so. You were having another attack weren’t you?” Red Alert’s flinch told him it was true. “Tell me about it.”

            “Sir?” Red Alert questioned, but as he moved to get up a heavy white hand pushed him back. Red Alert relented and began to tell his day-mare, a termed coined by his slightly younger coworker First Aid. “It was the wall. I had two, one that a patrol of unaligned Decepticons broke in, the next a hurricane throwing all the seekers into the water. They… They were smashed up against the city’s edge and broke apart.” A small note of pure distress worked its way into Red Alert’s voice and he sprang up. “I have to go check the monitors!”

            “Red Alert. I am ordering you as the Chief Medical Officer to go back to your quarters and _relax._ You can see the entire city from your window. You can see everything is _fine_.” The small scrape was treated and buffed out. “And go get someone to paint that scrape later.” Ratchet ordered, grunting and stalking off. He paused at the door to First Aid’s ward, staring at him before shaking his head and leaving to tend his own patients.

            Red Alert knew the old bot was only being hard on him because Red Alert needed it, but that did not stop a new delusion: Ratchet was angry with him and his disorder. He slowly got off the medical berth and straightened it up before turning on the autoclave and leaving, locking up the empty ward.

            On his way out of the Medical Sector he stopped by a street vendor, a minicon selling homemade mineralized energon. The enriched stuff made some gag on the rich taste but Red Alert loved the savory flavor. He purchased some, giving the little bot a bit extra before making his way up the street.

            The sun was bright and high over the city, making the blue-and-silver metals and glasses glimmer. Seekers zipped about overhead, and he resisted the urge to dive as Thundercracker chased Skywarp up the narrow space between buildings.

            The Commanding Trine’s leader had actually come to terms with leading the Decepticons, and came to better terms with Optimus Prime. Starscream was a brilliant leader, but when it came to his ground units he had barely an idea what to do with them other than formations. The agreement settled into was Starscream dealt with forces in the skies, and Prowl dealt with ground forces alongside Optimus Prime.

            Red Alert’s processor swam and his optics went a bit blurry as he made his way up an incline to the peak of the street, where it switched over to a glassy bridge leading to the Seekers’ Nest. A tower that stood high over the city, made of windows and doors that opened to the inside, and the sky. Any seeker to take off from any level of the tower with the push of a button. Red Alert found it useful for airing out his room on a sunny day.

            As he crossed the bridge, a few greeted him with nodding heads and small waves. The Decepticons had no grief over the security officer; many had gained small respect for him as the first medic to jump on treating their long-standing malnutrition and old warped injuries. He responded kindly to them, but felt a set of claws tap his shoulder gently.

            “You doin’ okay, Autobot?” The term used only in reference to who he served. The claws belonged to Knock Out of all bots.

            “Err. Yes. No? I’ve honestly no clue how I’m doing.” Red Alert stuttered over his words, confused to why this vain, snappy, sadistic medic was paying attention to him.

            Knock Out saw the distrust and waved it off as the patented Red Alert Paranoia. “You look like you’ve been skipping recharge for many solar cycles. And I saw you patrolling the entire wall. Again. You need to go see Skinny and Orange.” A nickname for Rung, adopted by the bots that couldn’t be bothered to remember the older therapist’s name.

            “Rung is very busy. There are a lot more bots than I with psychological needs. I have been medically ordered back to my quarters for rest, so I need to attend to that. Have a good afternoon, Knock Out.” Red Alert escaped from the pretty medic and managed to make it into an elevator in the Atrium. The heart of the Nest, and entirely made of tough Plexiglas. Flyers loved to zip up and down the column in the center, large enough that even the resident carrier-class bots could fly up and down. Red Alert managed a soft smile as a familiar swordsmech flew spirals down to the bottom floor.

            A ding and the glass doors opened, letting Red Alert off on what came to be known as the ‘nerd nest.’ Skyfire had made his home here along with Starscream, who had begrudgingly admitted his desire to start research again.

            Red Alert trudged to his door, opening it with his key code and locking it behind him. It was a single apartment, no private washrack but he was a clean bot and always used the public one anyways. One berthroom, a small living space, and a nice kitchen space to store energon and other tasty ingredients for cooking. With his enriched energon, he decided to have left overs, a cobalt soup of sorts. The humans had done wonders with basic ingredients and many bots had tried to replicate their own versions of the dishes. In this case, he just wanted a porridge type of meal. It tasted good cold or warm, but he decided on warm this time.

            Sitting out on the flight deck of the apartment he converted into a balcony, he watched the city. Not two feet away was his work datapad, and he knew if he jacked into the system Ratchet would know and order Soundwave to boot him out again.

            He ate his soup and sipped on the energon with a bitter stare at the Security Sector. Jokingly it had been painted red, mocking the Secret Service of the old Soviet Union from years ago on earth. With Jazz a member, it was probably comparable. Red Alert felt the paranoia toward the special ops agent creep in and forced it down with a memorable time Jazz had forced him to dance in the Rec Hall. A wonderful, happy time until Prowl ordered them to stop under some regulation only he would remember.

            A smile worked its way onto his face. He filled his mind with more memories of happier days, more recent things but happy things. Land Mine explaining fishing to him. Knock Out screeching in his defense and stabbing at Whirl, who Red Alert had to fix later anyways but it was the thought that counted. An old memory slipped in, Inferno smacking a bot around for making fun of Red Alert’s paranoia.

            Inferno. The happy thoughts faded away to thoughts of his old friend, the boisterous and loud, gung-ho bot that balanced his timid, cautions ways. He noticed the tears after they began to fall, and just let them. Rung said it was healthy to cry sometimes, especially over a lost friend.

            “But he isn’t _lost_!” Red Alert growled, gritting his teeth and punching the half-wall of his deck. Inferno, marked MIA, managed a short message not two months ago: Inferno is here. But there were no coordinates, and not even Soundwave managed to trace the short set of data.

            Prime’s message was constantly sent out to space, offering a refuge for many bots. Inferno either got that, or traced them to Earth. Red Alert spent many sleepless nights trying to trace it, even attacking Ratchet in his delusions. In the end it was Thundercracker, Starscream, and Cyclonus that restrained and threw him into the medical bay, all three jets surprised the ‘paranoid little Autobot’ put up so much a fight.

            It was weird to go and thank them later. Living with the Decepticons was weird, a merge of cultures and rules as well as rebuilding trusts. Old friend reunited, even some old sparkbonds.

            Red Alert never got lucky, never got the message that the trickle of bots coming from the corners of the universe to Xenogen included his Inferno. A bitter smile crossed his face; Inferno was never his. He never worked up the courage to ask him to be his. Oh, sure, they shared some private moments and maybe even some drunken ones. But Inferno never pressured Red Alert into anything, and had let Red Alert know early on that he’d “Never hurt his little Red.”

            It took him a minute to realize his food and drink disappeared. Red Alert quizzically glanced around, wondering where they went and suspected Rumble or Frenzy. But there was no snickering, or rope hanging off the balcony. Instead there was a shadow over his back.

            Turning around and arming his blaster he shot, only to have it deflected by a sword blade. Cyclonus stood there with a quirked eyebrow. “You were about to spill it.” He rumbled, managing to balance both containers in one hand and a sword in the other.

            “Oh. Thank you, Cyclonus.” Red Alert managed to get out, carefully going to take it from the mech. Cyclonus wasn’t nice; he was practical. And happened to live on the floor beneath Red Alert with that little minibot. Spilling his food all over would most likely drip it down onto them.

            Said minibot called up from the floor below. “Is he okay Cyclonus?” Tailgate was a sweet, good natured bot. How he ended up with Cyclonus was a mystery.

            “Yes, I’m fine, thank you.” Red Alert peaked over and looked down, waving a bit before turning back to Cyclonus. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you both.”

            Cyclonus just grunted and shrugged. “You may want to go cry inside.” He said softly, pointing as Whirl and Vortex zipped past. “Those two are relentless.” Cyclonus jumped off the makeshift balcony and down to his flight deck, also walled off for the impending arrival of a sparkling.

            Red Alert took the advice and collected his things to go inside. His apartment felt empty and lonely and for one brief moment he felt unbridled jealousy toward the expecting couple in the quarters below his. He reigned it in with force.

            “No need to be jealous, Red Alert.” He reprimanded himself. “It’s unbecoming of a doctor or security director.” Red Alert’s talking to himself soothed the nerves that became ruffled.

            A sudden, full-city alarm ‘soothed’ them the rest of the way, or rather frazzled them into immediate panic. He instantly ran to his work-pad and jacked in, scanning the data with speed only Soundwave could match. Something entered the atmosphere above the city. He crossed his fingers and prayed to Primus and every human god he could think of that this time, maybe _this time_ it would be Inferno.

            The data streamed into his processor and he sorted it instantly, bots starting to privately com him for orders. He kept them on a hold, waiting for the perfect conclusion before finally alerting Prime to scramble the Sky Titans, Starscream plus six other seekers, sheltered overhead by Skyfire. They were all ordered to escort the incoming UFO, now registering as absolutely alive and definitely a Cybertronian.

            “It is in distress.” He heard as he joined a group com, Starscream diving in to secure the hooks dangling from Skyfire’s cargo bay. As the hooks were attached, a large parachute flew from the cargo bay to open and slow the descent. “Energon, I smell burnt energon!” The seeker and his team managed to circle around the falling bot.

            “Red Alert: Suggestions?” Soundwave requested, but Red Alert was already flying down the Atrium of the Nest, and had bolted out the doors. He knew how to take a fall, and took another to jump off the bridge. He transformed, racing for the impact zone. “Statement: Calling Ratchet to the scene.”

            “I’ve got it, Soundwave.” Red Alert couldn’t keep the spark of hope from his voice, and could feel the pity from a few bots that knew what he hoped for.

            This was a semi-regular occurrence in Xenogen. But rarely was it ever a single bot. Red Alert heard the distant crash and saw the hiss of steam as the beach of the island serving as the base for the city was fried by the heat of entry.

            And then he saw the bot. He instantly knew it was Inferno but this Inferno was half dead and broken. Unconscious optics and a lulled head shot fear right into Red Alert’s spark. He could faintly hear Starscream shouting.

            “—Alert! Hey, Autobot!” Claws gripped his shoulders and shook him from the daze. “Get to work you sorry piece of slag!” Good old Starscream. Skyfire had managed to mellow out his usual attitude but under stress he screeched and growled and spat like an alley cat.

            Skyfire had already began basic diagnostics, the scientist no medic but knew the basics. Red Alert numbly knelt down to work, taking in the burnt metal and the scent of processed energon. Lines were pinched to stop major leaks, damaged armor removed, and painkiller injected directly into his coolant pump to stem the internal turmoil of his auto-repair. Skyfire also had been keeping an eye on Red Alert.

            “Red, he’s here now.” Skyfire got a dumb nod in reply. “And he’s alive. And you’ll keep him that way.”

            “Shut up, Skyfire. Red Alert knows that.” Starscream growled, wings raising in a dare to challenge him. Skyfire just smiled at his grumpy mate and went back to tending the injured Inferno.

            Four hours of work on the sandy beach and Inferno was stabilized enough to move. Evac was called in to do the brunt of the moving. Reports flooded Red Alert’s processor, still linked up to Inferno as he walked slowly under the bot, ready to cushion the fall if Inferno slipped loose.

            In the medical bay, Ratchet and First Aid stood by for Inferno, taking him in and rushing him to Ratchet’s medical ward for repair surgery. Red Alert stood dumbly at the door, watching them take his partner away and out of sight. He saw Rung, saw Rung’s lips moving but couldn’t hear the words. A small sting on his arm, Rung raising his voice at Knock Out and Knock Out’s claws catching him as he fell into darkness.

            Red Alert woke up to familiar sounds, laying in a medical berth, in a medical ward, with the beep of a vitals machine indicating someone alive in the berth next to him. His hand was being held tight though and there was a strap over his chest. He felt sticky and gross, and when he managed to lift a hand he saw the energon and groaned. The day’s events crashed over him and he began to twitch and shake. The strong grip on his hand tightened.

            “Red.” The voice made him seize up and a sob escaped him. “I’m sorry Red. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” More sobs shook his body and yet the hand stayed. The machine bleeped loudly as wires were pulled free. He dared to online his optics, training demanding he see what was going on. Inferno had sat up, a mess of miss-matched patch metal over his entire body. He was giving Red Alert that lopsided, cocky grin.

            Red Alert tried to sit up, but the strap kept him down. “Don’t Red, just rest. We both need it. Turns out you spend the better part of an hour giving the old doc slag for taking me away. You never did like when others operated on your patients, or took over your monitors.”

            The sobs came back as Inferno referenced their past memories. This was his Inferno, and the dream was real. Red Alert took a shaky in-vent and glared at him the best he could through the red visor. “Y-You need to lay down.”

            Inferno laughed and nodded. “Yes sir, little Red. Whatever will make you happy.” But his hand never left Red’s, and the smile never left his face. “I tried to find you.”

            “I know.” Red Alert whispered, finding it to be true. “I tried too. But they needed me here.”

            “I know little Red.” Inferno sounded on the verge of tears now but he held them back. “I got Prime’s message. Me and a couple others that had gotten stranded out after fights and lived tried to get here. Turns out there’s still ‘cons not on your side. Ratchet briefed me before I could put a hole in that pretty red aftplate of Knock Out’s. Primus knows I tried.”

            Red Alert managed a breathy laugh and finally squeezed his hand back. “You haven’t changed at all.” Still the cocky bot he knew all those years ago.

            “Neither have you. ‘Cept maybe you’re a bit more crazy. But I like crazy.” Inferno chuckled and there was a yawn in his voice. “Let’s say we get some rest, then we get some fuel. We can catch up. It’ll be fun. Some little minicon left you some enriched stuff you like.” Red Alert smiled and his spark swelled with appreciation at the silent little friendship he had made with the street vendor. “Still like that stuff I see. Recharge first, then energon.”

            Red Alert waited until Inferno had dozed off, then glanced over. He would have loved to snuggle up to his side, but for now contented himself with holding his big hand, feeling it’s warmth, and reveling in the fact that his Inferno was indeed alive, well, and by his side once again.


End file.
